Games
by snakelaces
Summary: In which the Earl of Phantomhive loses at chess, and realizes that it doesn't matter in the slightest. One-Shot.


_**In which the Earl of Phantomhive loses at chess, and realizes that it doesn't matter in the slightest.**_

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**Games**

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"Check."

Ciel sighed and dragged his king over to the right. Great. Now he couldn't castle. His old wooden chair creaked as he crouched over the old, dusty chess board and stared down Sebastian's queen, racking his tired brain for a suitable strategy.

Sebastian smirked. Bringing his queen that far down the board was a risky move. Still, he'd never been one to play it safe. After all, safety was boring, and there was nothing demons hated more than boredom. Besides, seeing the child get all flustered over a game was highly entertaining.

Sebastian pushed a chipped pawn through the thin layer of grime to attack Ciel's bishop. As the boy bent his head to inspect the cracked board, the butler smiled patronizingly. It would be interesting to see how the young master would react to this new threat.

Ciel frowned and sneezed. He couldn't concentrate like this. There was dust **everywhere**. It coated the furniture, hung on the cheap paintings, and covered the creaky floor except for where their footsteps had wiped it clean. Dry mold grew in the dark corners of the room, where the faded, yellowish wallpaper had curled up and withered. The dust in the air and the spores from the mold burned at his lungs, and he let out a hacking cough.

The small room was dark, and the only light came from the half-burnt candle on the dresser. It gave off thick, musky smoke that made Ciel's eyes water, so he closed them and pictured the board in his head.

Ciel liked his white bishop. It was in a good position, threatening the chink in Sebastian's black armor. Ciel wouldn't gain anything by taking the demon's unprotected pawn. It was, after all, just a pawn. So he decided to counterattack. But how ...?

After a moment of silent reflection, Ciel picked up his knight and attacked Sebastian's queen. The boy smirked. That should keep the filthy demon at bay for a while.

Still, his silent victory celebration was interrupted. It was that smell again. Sebastian really should have gotten rid of that thing before now. Its pungent stink was slowly pervading the entire room.

Ciel wrinkled his pert little nose. It was _absolutely disgusting_. Even so, he didn't want to give the demon the satisfaction of knowing that that _thing_had gotten to him. It would just have to stay crumpled up on the floor until they left this horrid place.

Sebastian was quite content with this turn of events. Seeing the child suffer was always a pleasure, though the demon couldn't quite understand how anyone could hate that _lovely, enticing_odor. It filled his nostrils and his mouth with such _delicious_ want...

The demon licked his lips, savoring the essence on his tongue, and moved his dented queen away.

The rest of the game passed rather too quickly for Ciel's liking. He always took an appropriate amount of time to contemplate each direction the game could take, each possible outcome. After all, preparation was everything. But where he took his time, Sebastian did not. That damn demon was always ready, always prepared to move the moment Ciel's hands left the board. **I**_nsufferable_. And to think he'd _lost_, to a mere butler...

It was infuriating.

Sebastian liked it.

When the grayish candle on the dresser had been fully consumed, Sebastian was ready with another. Ciel fell asleep, curled up tightly in that uncomfortable, rotting yellow armchair, and Sebastian sat across from him silently, smirking at something only he could see. The stayed in that sad, rundown little house until morning.

Ciel woke up late. His eyelids were heavy and his vision blurred, but he fought his way out of the small, moldy armchair and stumbled to the nearest window. It was caked in dust and dirt, but he pressed his nose to it anyway and looked out.

The bright yellow sun was already high up above London, and the city was awake and bustling with life. Ciel squinted and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before sticking his face to the grimy glass again. He could make out the faint outline of the warehouse across the street and the blurred shapes of wet cobblestones, but nothing more. The streets around there were still deserted, and would be until nightfall.

Ciel breathed a sigh of relief. No one had come. No one would. He was safe.

The boy let out a yawn and stretched his cramped limbs. He found a small mirror inside the dresser and ran his hands through his matted hair, trying to smooth it out somewhat before placing his eyepatch on his eye and tying the thin black string behind his head.

The door opened, and Sebastian stepped inside holding a large, wrapped package.

"Young Master, I apologize for not waking you earlier, but I am afraid our ride back to the estate has been slightly delayed. For the moment, I have procured the necessary components for breakfast," he said before lightly setting the package down on the blackened table.

Ciel opened his mouth to reply, inhaled, and then snapped it shut again before turning positively green.

"Sebastian, you can't possibly expect me to eat with... _that_in the room," he said, waving his hand at the black, crumpled heap on the floor. "It is repulsive. Get rid of it at once."

"My Lord, you know that I cannot remove it. It would be against orders."

Ciel glowered as a slight smile danced across his butler's lips. "Fine then. But we shall wait for the coach outside. I don't want to have to spend any more time here than is necessary." Sebastian smiled and bowed his head.

"Yes, my lord."

The small Earl and his loyal butler went outside and waited for the coach. The London air was fresh and nice compared to the damp, choking stuffiness inside, and Ciel breathed it in gladly. But the coach wasn't coming any time soon, and the young boy's presence was starting to attract unwanted attention, so he was forced to go back in while Sebastian kept watch outside.

Ciel sat back down in the dingy yellow armchair and stared at the chessboard, trying to ignore the stench emenating from the black heap on the floor. All the pieces were still in place from yesterday's game. The off-white king was still pinned into checkmate, held down by black's knight and queen. Ciel sighed as he slowly ran his fingers along the crack in the board, carefully avoiding splinters.

How had he let Sebastian beat him? Despite the butler's inhuman nature, he wasn't particularly good at chess. Ciel should have been able to checkmate him without too much effort, or at least bring the game to a stalemate. Why hadn't he won? Had his intellect dimmed, or had he been distracted?

By guilt?

Ciel looked over at the **thing** on the floor, and his chest constricted.

By guilt.

He had let guilt get to him. This was bad. If guilt was getting to him, interfering with his clear, rational judgement, something had to be done fast. He had humiliated himself in front of his butler, the demon. He was the Earl of Phantomhive, the King of Games, and he had _lost_**. **Ciel Phantomhive did not _lose_games. Ciel Phantomhive did not _lose_at _chess!_

"Young Master, the coach has arrived." Sebastian said, poking his head through the door and interrupting Ciel's silent meltdown.

The boy couldn't let the demon see him like this. He couldn't show weakness, or the monster would strike. And Ciel Phantomhive never forfeited.

So he took a deep, calming breath, cleared his mind, and stood up. In the end, he told himself, it didn't matter who had won at chess. A single chess match was unimportant in the long run.

_And, after all_, he thought, glancing at the corpse on the floor, _there are much worse games to play._

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**_I know, cliché, don't hate me. _Reviews are nice.**_  
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